ch she had no right to disallow?
had he not a right to all her fulfilment of them? Eleanor did not love
him as he loved her; she saw that with singular and sudden
distinctness; but there again, when she thought of that as a reason for
not fulfilling her contract, she was obliged to own that it would be no
reason to Mr. Carlisle. He never had had ground to suppose that Eleanor
gave him more than she had expressed; but he was entirely content with
what he had and his own confidence that he could cultivate it into what
he pleased. There was no shaking loose from him in that way. As Eleanor
sat on the hearth and looked at the ashes, in reality looking at Mr.
Carlisle, her own face grew wan at what she saw there. She could give
him no reason for changing their relations to each other, that would
make him hold her a bit the less closely, no, nor the less fondly. What
could Eleanor do? To go on and be Mr. Carlisle's wife, if necessary;
give him all the observance and regard that she could, that she owed
him, for having put herself in a false position where she could not
give him more;--Eleanor saw nothing else before her. But one thing
beside she would do. She would make Mr. Carlisle clearly and fully
understand what sort of a woman he must expect in her. She would
explain thoroughly what sort of a life she meant to lead. Justly
stated, what would that be?

Eleanor thought; and found herself determined, heart and soul, to
follow the path of life laid before her that evening. Whether "peace"
could visit her, in the course that seemed to lie through her future
prospects, Eleanor much doubted; but at any rate she would have the
rest of a satisfied conscience. She would take the Bible for her rule.
Mr. Rhys's God should be her God, and with all she had of power and
ability she would serve him. Dim as religious things still were to her
vision, one thing was not dim, but shiningly clear; the duty of every
creature to live the devoted servant of that Lord to whom he belongs by
creation and redemption both. Here Eleanor's heart fixed, if it had a
fixed point that tumultuous night; but long before it settled anywhere
her thoughts were bathed in bitter tears; in floods of weeping that
seemed fit to wash her very heart away. It occurred to Eleanor, if they
could, how much trouble would be saved! She saw plenty before her. But
there was the gripe of a fear and a wish upon her heart, that
overmastered all others. The people had sung a hymn